


The Angel Man

by toxik_angel



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Wings, Angel Wings, Angel!Ryan, Coming Out, M/M, Protective Shane Madej, Shane can sew, Shane's POV, Soft Ryan Bergara, Supernatural Elements, fake location shoot, kind of, sexy harnesses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxik_angel/pseuds/toxik_angel
Summary: Ryan sprouts wings. That's it, that's the fic.Shane is supportive and helpful, the Bergaras make an appearance.Part 2 coming soon!
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 20
Kudos: 74





	The Angel Man

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea based on a photoshoot someone did with angel wings and though about how adorable Ryan would be with them. Don't come after me, I'm a simple girl with simple tastes.

It's said that the first and only resident of the Anatole House, Deborah Smyth, was a forest witch.  
  
Reportedly, some of the entities which powered her magic are still roaming around the property long after her mysterious disappearance.  
  
They never did find Deborah's body, only traces of her belongings scattered over the grounds.  
  
One of her shirts was found high in the branches of the trees lining the edge of this property with two holes ripped in the back, but otherwise intact. Several other articles of clothing were found in decent shape nearby, except one shoe which washed down the creek for a mile or so.  
  
To this day, visitors report hearing screams and thumps inside the house and around the property, as if Deborah is trying to get back to this dimension and back to her home.  
  


* * *

  
"I'm just gonna say it... I'm not the biggest believer in witchcraft. I don't really buy it." Ryan says as they walk into the house. Shane doesn't seem surprised from where he follows a step behind.  
  
"You've mentioned this before, and it still confuses me. Ghosts are more bullshit than witchcraft." He argues, and Ryan just shrugs.  
  
"I dunno, man, people have souls, sometimes those souls get lost and then they’re ghosts. But people don't have magical powers that let them control things outside the realm of what’s physically possible."  
  
"The fact that you can say that with a straight face is... is frankly astounding."  
  
"Alright, well already this is more like a cabin in the woods than any place I’ve ever been. I'm kind of waiting for a guy with an axe and a potato sack pulled over his head to jump out at us." Ryan says as he shines his flashlight around the cramped space.  
  
"I can agree with that. Definitely getting some serial killer vibes from this one."  
  
"Alright, well, uh, hi, Deborah. If you're here, I'm Ryan, this is Shane. We're here to talk to you, maybe find out what happened to you." Ryan says, and out of habit more than anything else, he and Shane stand in silence for a minute or two while they get a feel for the atmospheric noises around them. TJ is outside still, getting some shots of their surroundings, and Devon sits in a corner, out of the way. Mark follows them around with the main camera.  
  
Crickets outside the house; the faint creak of wood floors under their feet; a distant animal screaming in the forest surrounding them.  
  
"And this is pretty much how the rest of the night is going to go." Shane says, sounding bored already.  
  
"You can talk to us, you can touch us-" Ryan ignores his friend, his wide eyes darting around the room in the darkness.  
  
"Rip my spine out and use it as a whip!" Shane shouts from slightly behind him, and Ryan feels like rolling his eyes. Shane always riles up the spirits in these places and one day, it's going to catch up to them.  
  
"Pay no attention to my tall friend here, he doesn't believe you guys exist." He says, a pathetic attempt to placate any vengeful spirits. A hissing noise starts from somewhere to his left, and he shines his light over to see what it was.  
  
"Relax, man, it's just the pipes. Old houses like these have creaky old bones. They make noises."  
  
Ryan doesn't relax.  
  
"I feel fuckin weird in here, dude. I don't like this place."  
  
"Too creepy for you, little guy?" Shane teases, pointing the handheld camera at Ryan.  
  
"No, it's- it's not even that. It's a weird lack of anything that's weirding me out. Usually these places have some sort of feel to them, this one just feels abandoned."  
  
xXx  
  
The investigation goes smoothly, no weird hiccups in equipment, no striking responses from the spirit box. Ryan almost feels calm by the end of it, and the entire crew seems pleased with the footage.  
  
"Deborah, I hope whatever happened to you is discovered someday. I mean, witchcraft maybe wasn't the best hobby, but uh..."  
  
"Well, you reap what you sow, Ryan." Shane says off-handedly, eyes focused on the screen showing him Ryan’s frame in the handheld's view.  
  
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Ryan asks, turning to look up at Shane.  
  
"What do you think it means? If you mess around with weird things, you're bound to get into some strange situations. Weird attracts weird. She probably died at the hand of some other creepy witch who had beef with her."  
  
"I liked to believe she just died peacefully on vacation and that's why they never found her body." Ryan says with a shrug. Shane huffs.  
  
"Unlikely. Why would her clothes be everywhere?"  
  
"She lived alone, Shane, there's no way of knowing how long those clothes had been in the forest. You like blaming the wind, maybe her laundry caught a strong breeze." Ryan suggests.  
  
"I'm gonna go ahead and call bullshit on that one."  
  
"Oh so now you don't think the wind did it."  
  
"She got murked by another witch, Ryan! Those are two people, skin and bones. No funny stuff there." Shane protests. Ryan lets it go, turning to get a wide shot of the house as they walk outside.  
  
"Well, Anatole House, it was... an honor? A privilege?" Ryan tries.  
  
"A bore." Shane leans in for emphasis, and Ryan rolls his eyes.  
  
"Unbelievable. Okay, Big Guy, let's get going. We have a long drive back into town."  
  
As they’re leaving, Ryan turns one last time to look up at the house. It doesn’t look creepy or haunted, just… sad. He tears his eyes away, getting into the driver’s seat.  
  
“Ow, fuck.”  
  
“You alright?” Shane looks over, concerned.  
  
“Yeah, I just- fuck, what the hell.” Ryan rubs absently at this shoulder. “By back is killing me, I don’t think I can drive.”  
  
“We didn’t even sleep here.”  
  
“Yeah, I guess I’m just getting old. Mark, do you mind?” He asks their cameraman, who shrugs and gets out of the backseat. Ryan takes his place and has to hunch forward to get comfortable.  
  
“You okay, Ryan?” Devon asks, pulling painkillers out of her backpack along with a bottle of water. “Take these.”  
  
“I’m fine, I think I just need a good night’s sleep and maybe a trip to a chiropractor.” Ryan answers, but he takes the pills from her and downs them.  
  


* * *

  
Back in LA, I’m woken up by my phone buzzing at 5:47 in the morning.  
  
“Hello? Ryan?” I grumble.  
  
“Can you come over? I need you.” Ryan’s voice sounded hoarse and breathless. I sat up, fully awake now.  
  
“Yeah, I’ll be right over. Are you okay?”  
  
“No.”  
  


* * *

  
It was 6:03 when I ran up the stairs to Ryan’s apartment, rapping on the door and leaning against the frame, panting.  
  
The door cracked open, Ryan’s pale, damp face poking out.  
  
“What’s wrong, dude? Let me in, are you okay?”  
  
“Please don’t freak out, I’m already freaking out enough for both of us.” Ryan said, and I nod, putting my hand on the door to push it gently.  
  
“Yeah sure, no freaking out.” I took a deep breath, trying to even out my breathing. “You gonna let me in?”  
  
Ryan straightened up, pulling the door open wider. He’s shirtless, wearing sweatpants, shoulders covered in sweat and chest heaving.  
  
That was fine, not even unusual for Ryan.  
  
I blinked at what sat directly behind him.  
  
Two pale, bony structures start from Ryan’s shoulder blades and move outward in sort of a creepy arc.  
  
“Okay, okay. That’s new.” I say, trying to keep my voice calm for my friend’s sake. “That’s, I’m assuming, the issue here?” I confirm, and Ryan huffs, rolling his eyes.  
  
“No, there’s a different reason I called you over here at the asscrack of dawn.”  
  
I walk around behind Ryan, examining the new appendages while Ryan squirmed under my gaze.  
  
The skin around the protrusions was torn, buckled and bloody. Blood, dried now, had dripped down his back and stained the edge of his underwear’s waistband. The – wings – had grown out from his shoulders, still rather twisted and creepy-looking.  
  
“Does it hurt?” I ask dumbly.  
  
“No, the blood felt nice, it was really a pleasant experience.” Ryan says, sarcastic. He gets increasingly cynical when he’s upset or stressed out, and apparently, he’s both this morning. I can’t say that I blame him.  
  
“I mean does it still hurt now.” I correct, giving his sarcasm a pass.  
  
“Yeah, it fucking hurts, dude, are you looking at it?” Ryan says, waving his hands from where they lay against his sides. “I can’t even really lift my arms, and every time I shift, the skin around them tears open again.”  
  
“Damn. Okay, alright. Let’s do some damage control, maybe?” I suggest, putting my hands gently on the outsides of Ryan’s shoulders to steer him towards the bathroom. “Have you taken pain meds?”  
  
“Yeah, I ran out.”  
  
“Geez, dude, how many did you take?”  
  
“Definitely too many, but what was I supposed to do?” Ryan says, his hands trying to mimic a shrug without moving his shoulders.  
  
“Okay, that’s maybe gonna be fine. Let’s get you cleaned up and to bed. Did you sleep at all?”  
  
“I woke up at like two because my fucking skin was ripped open.”  
  
I pushed Ryan to straddle the closed toilet so he faced the tank.  
  
“It looks like a murder happened in here.” I say under my breath, glancing at the blood flicked over the walls, settling in the bottom of the tub and painting a truly horrifying story.  
  
I grabbed a washcloth, getting it wet and trying to gently scrub off the blood that had dripped down Ryan’s back. Ryan’s hands were fisted where they fell between his spread knees, and I could gauge his pain from the level of his white-knuckled grip. Every now and then, the bare wings would twitch, and I tried to stay away from the areas that caused that.  
  
When I got to the section where the wings erupted, I paused.  
  
“I’m gonna have to clean this.” I tell Ryan. “It’s going to hurt a lot, but I have to put something on there so nothing gets infected.”  
  
“Okay, do it.”  
  
“You sure? It’s going to hurt.”  
  
“What choice do I have?”  
  
Fair point.  
  
I do my best to work gently, not disrupting the fresh scabs more than I needed to. Ryan swore under his breath, flinching every now and then.  
  
“Do you have q-tips?”  
  
“Yeah, in the drawer.”  
  
The ointment I find in the cabinet was old, but didn’t look expired. I squeeze a blob onto a q-tip to spread over the raw skin. Ryan flinched, back muscles tensing.  
  
“Fuck!”  
  
“Sorry.” I whisper, running a soothing hand up and down Ryan’s side as I work. It seemed to help a little as I covered the area with gel.  
  
Finally, I was satisfied with the job.  
  
“Okay, done.”  
  
“Oh thank fuck.” Ryan said, dropping his head against the toilet tank and breathing hard. “That fucking sucked.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
I rub Ryan’s arms, trying to comfort my friend. After a few minutes, Ryan lifts his head.  
  
“Thanks… for, y’know. Coming over.” He says, twisting his head to give me a sincere grimace.  
  
“Anytime, buddy.” I responded, taking a step back so Ryan could get up again. “Let’s get some bandages on you so you can get some rest.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Ryan shows me where he keeps his plain white tshirts, and I rip one to shreds, creating makeshift wraps.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“I’m sorry, were you planning on wearing this over your wings?” I ask, and Ryan’s face scrunches up. I feel bad.  
  
“Yeah, you’re right.”  
  
“Hey, you doing okay? Feelings-wise?” I ask, moving behind him again to wrap the strips around the bases of his wings. “This is a lot.”  
  
“I don’t know how this fucking happened, dude. I’m still in shock.” Ryan admits quietly. I pause.  
  
“You know I hate saying this more than anyone, but did you notice anything while we were on location? That witch lady’s house did have weird vibes, you said.”  
  
“That’s when my back started hurting, remember? It only got worse after that, I couldn’t sit in my chair at work. I just thought the plane messed it up.”  
  
I finish bandaging him up and move to face him again.  
  
“You didn’t answer my question.”  
  
Ryan frowns, thinking.  
  
“I guess… I guess I’m fine, I mean, this is going to fuck up my life, I can’t go out anymore I guess, so that sucks. Like, the more I think about it, the worse I realize this is.” He sighs.  
  
I open my arms, and he finds his way inside them. I’m careful to not jostle his wings or bandages, resting one arm around his neck above his shoulders and the other around his waist.  
  
“You’re gonna get through this, buddy. I’m right by your side the whole time.” I assure him. I feel him nod against my arm.  
  
“Thanks, man.”  
  
“On the plus side, these bad boys are looking more developed than even when I got here. Less creepy, more wing-y.” I say, taking not of the more symmetrical shape they’ve taken on, now looking like a matched set rather than two weird-ass antlers.  
  
“Yeah, they grow fast. I almost want to sit in front of a time-lapse camera and see how fast.” He says, and I grin.  
  
“Let’s do that. I think it’s fair to say you’re not making it into the office today, I’ll let the bosses know and we can hang out here today.” I suggest, and Ryan smiles.  
  
“You mean you’d stay home from work just to hang out with lil old me?”  
  
“Baby, you know how much I love working in the office, but I think I can make an exception for you.” I tease, releasing him and heading towards his kitchen. “Eggs?”  
  
“Yes please. I’m starving.” He answers, a few steps behind me. I laugh.  
  
“There’s something about growing wings from scratch that’ll do that to you.”  
  
“From scratch-” He wheezes, and the laugh sounds so good to me, I have to join him.

* * *

Ryan does sit in front of a time lapse camera while we eat, then while we play video games and watch a movie. Six hours later, we’ve done absolutely no work, but Ryan is looking much better than when I found him.

"You know, they're starting to look really cool." I tell him, nodding at his wings.

The progress has been like the sun moving across the sky. You can't really tell by watching, but every now and then, you look down and the shadow isn't where it was 10 minutes ago. They've taken a more intentional shape now, curving inward from his shoulders and back down in a sharp point.

"Are they? Let's shut the camera off and I'll take a look at the progress." Ryan says, getting up to find a mirror. I shut off the camera, really looking forward to watching the footage back at a higher speed.

I hear Ryan's shuffling as he comes back into the room.

"How are they looking?" I ask.

"Like wings, I guess. I'm torn between thinking that this is really fucking cool and definitely proof of the supernatural, and being really fucking upset because it's totally fucking up my entire life. I mean, what are my parents going to say?"

"I'm sure they'll understand, Ry, I mean, what choice do they have? It's not like a bad tattoo gone wrong that could've been avoided, it's just something that happened."

"I guess, but it's still gonna be a shitshow."

"I'm sorry, bud."

"It's not your fault."

"I know, but like. It's still gonna suck. You are a Z-list celebrity of sorts, it's not like you can just never go outside again, people will notice you're gone."

"Shit, what's going to happen to Unsolved? And I'll have to tell my parents and Jake at least... This is gonna fucking suck." He groans, running his hands over his face and leaning his head against my shoulder. I sigh, rubbing his biceps.

"I know, buddy, I know."

* * *

“Hi Mom,” Ryan calls, sounding cheerful even though he’s very clearly stressed about this. I squeeze the hand I’m holding, and he squeezes back. I can hear his family’s chatter through the phone, although the screen is angled to keep me out of frame, so I can’t see it. It's very close to his face, so they can't see the wings yet.

“Ryan! What’s wrong, baby? You sounded so worried in your text!”

“Are Dad and Jake with you? I only want to do this once. Well, never, preferably, but that’s off the table I guess.”

“Yeah, I’m here. Hey, Ryan. You’re finally coming out to us?” Jake’s voice came through, teasing, but I can hear the slight anxiety in it. “Why are you shirtless?”

“I’m not coming out, Jake. Although, I guess I might as well, since I’m here, surprise, everyone, I’m bisexual.” Ryan’s grip on my hand was relentless and sweaty. 

His mother coos her support and love, and his dad says something that sounds a lot like ‘yeah, it’s not much of a surprise.’

“That’s not what I wanted to tell you though.” He stammers again, releasing my hand to run his fingers through his hair, then returning, even sweatier than before. 

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” His dad asks. 

“Not, exactly.”

“What do you mean, not exactly?” His mom panics. 

“Relax mom! I’m- you know how Shane and I go all over the place to do investigations for Unsolved?” He finally says. 

“Oh my god, you and Shane finally hooked up, I knew it!” Jake yells, and Ryan drops my hand like I burned him. 

“No! Jake, stop it!” He says, messing with his hair again. “No, I’m trying to tell you guys that I picked up a little something on location and I can’t get rid of it. It’s very weird and I don’t think you’re going to like it.” 

“Just tell us, Ryan!” His dad says at the same time as Jake stage-whispers 'STD.'

“Okay, we went to a witch’s cabin in the woods and I somehow sprouted a pair of wings.” He says, and it’s silent on the line for a minute. 

“What the hell?”

“Is this some kind of prank, Ryan?”

“Yeah, what the fuck, dude?”

“It’s not a prank, look.” Ryan hands the phone to me, and I take it without thinking. Ryan flips the screen gets up to show his family the wings. They shift, ruffling slightly, but very clearly real wings and not some mechanical strap on set. I can see their faces now as I hold the phone, and Mrs. Bergara looks about ready to faint. 

“Ryan-“

“Wait, who’s holding the phone?” Mr. Bergara says.

“I don’t know- I don’t know what happened. I just woke up in the middle of the night and by the end of the day, they looked like this. I swear we did nothing on site that would make this happen, you know how careful I am.” Ryan is running his hands through his hair now, almost pacing the room in stress. 

“I’m... I'm sure we could get someone to take a look at those.” Mr. Bergara finally says, quietly. The implications of his statement don’t hit me until they’ve also hit Ryan. 

“You mean get surgery? Get them removed?”

I’m shocked, the thought hadn’t occurred to me. My initial reaction is what if they grow back? It doesn’t seem likely, but then again, my best friend did sprout a pair of wings in a day, so. 

“Yes, you don’t intend to try to live with them, do you? You’re famous, Ryan, can you imagine how terrible that would be?” 

“But Dad, surgery? I mean, it’s been a day, do you really think that’s the first step? That would be insanely painful, recovery would be a bitch, not to mention that it would probably cause some permanent damage.”

“Well, what choice do you have? You can’t drive with those, you can’t go anywhere, what will you do for work?”

“I can work from home for a bit, we aren’t traveling for awhile and there’s plenty of editing to do.”

“Alright, but what about when you have to video things? Will you just pretend they aren’t there? You can’t even wear a shirt!” His mom protests, and Jake chimes in. 

“I’m sure your fans won’t mind that part.”

I hold in my snort - they sure wouldn't mind.

“I’m saying I don’t have to make any decisions right now. Hell, I haven’t even had a good night's sleep since it happened.”

“I can’t make the decision for you, Ryan, but don’t let a little short term pain stop you from living your life.” His dad said carefully.

“I know, I know. I’ll let you know what I decide.” Ryan says, coming back to sit next to me. His wings flutter and shift, and I can feel the air brushing over my face and he settles down. 

“Oh hi Shane!” His mother says. Now that the camera is facing back, Ryan has left me in the frame as well, and I wave slightly. 

"Hi guys, sorry, didn't mean to intrude or anything-" I begin, but she cuts me off.

"Nonsense, I'm glad Ryan isn't by himself. Thank you for being here." She says honestly, and I smile back.

"Are you living there now?" Jake cuts in, earning himself a smack on the arm from his dad.

"Jacob!"

Ryan stiffens at my side, and I almost smirk.

"It's okay," I wave him off. "No, not living here, I've just been around to help out for the last day or so." I explain, and I feel Ryan relax again.

"Back off, Jake, oh my god." Ryan says, looking flustered.

"Any other groundbreaking revelations you may want to share with us?" Mrs. Bergara asks gently, wrapping up the call.

"No, not yet anyway. I'll let you know." Ryan says, rubbing his hand over his face. "Thanks for being cool, guys."

"We love you, Ryan, nothing is going to change that." His dad assures him, and I smile at the fondness.

"Thank you. I'll talk to you later with any updates."

"Sounds good, sweetheart. Bye, Shane!"

Goodbyes said, Ryan hangs up the call and puts the phone down, flopping sideways against my shoulder.

"That went better than I expected." He sighed, and I rubbed his shoulder soothingly.

"It went pretty well, and I'm proud of you for coming out, too. After all this shit, I'm sure it'll be nice to have that out there and be stressed about one less thing at least." I tell him. Ryan had been considering for months when the right time to come out may be, and I'm glad it's out there and his parents are being supportive.

“Yeah, it felt good. Thanks for being here, Shane. I couldn’t do this alone.” He turns to look at me sincerely, and I smile at him.

“Of course, buddy. I’ll be here as long as you want. It’s the ghoul boys’ bond, we took an oath, remember?” I tease, and a little smile lands on his face.

“What the hell am I going to do about shirts?” He asks, changing the subject and looking pensive again.

“You could theoretically just never wear a shirt again.” I suggest, but stop when he gives me an unimpressed look. “Or I could help you alter a few shirts to accommodate your new appendages.”

“You can sew?” He looks baffled.

“It’s not hard, Ryan, most people can sew. Let’s take a look at your closet, I’ll need to go home to get some stuff but I don’t know what I’ll need yet.”

Turns out, I’m supplying everything but the shirts. Ryan, true to his frat-boy nature, owns nothing sewing-related, not even spare buttons that come with shirts. He just throws them away when he takes the tags off.

“You really should keep those.” I tell him, but he shrugs.

“If the buttons fall off, I usually just buy a new shirt.”

“My god, how are you a college graduate?” I mutter to myself.

I go back to my apartment, take a shower, pack a suitcase and gather up any supplies I may need to fix Ryan’s shirt problem.

By the time I get back, Ryan’s apartment is a bit cleaner, the few feathers that had dropped to the floor cleaned up and the dishes washed.

“You know what I realized,” Ryan began as soon as I was inside. I hum in response. “Whenever I lose a feather on one side, I lose the same one on the other side too, like a bird’s wings. For balance or whatever.” He says, holding up two nearly identical feathers that I can only assume he saved for this exact purpose.

“That’s great, why is this a revelation?” I ask, trying to figure out why he’s telling me this.

“Because, if my wings are trying to stay balanced, that must mean they could theoretically be used for flight, right?”

“Ryan, don’t you dare jump off a building to prove your point.” I warn, only half joking. He follows me as I grab the stack of shirts he’d chosen to sacrifice and sit on the couch with my Tupperware full of needles and thread.

“I won’t, fuck you, but like, wouldn’t it be amazing if like, flight was a thing? It might make it all worth it.” He says, a grin on his face that I’m happy to see.

“Okay, buddy. First chance we get, you can try flapping those puppies to see if you can get off the ground.”

That seems to placate him at least, and he watches me work, sitting on the coffee table. Every now and then, he’ll ruffle his wings or lift them a little, like he’s trying to stretch them but isn’t strong enough to fully extend them yet.

“My back hasn’t been this sore since P90X.” He says, rubbing at one shoulder.

“Did you grow new muscles to move them?” I ask, genuinely curious, but he scowls at me. “No, I’m serious, like can you open them up all the way or are you still growing into them?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see anything back there so I don’t know if it looks different.”

“Turn around.” I tell him, a little surprised when he complies easily.

“Please don’t tell me you know the anatomy of back muscles well enough to find if there are new ones.” He says, a mocking tone to his voice. I stare at the wall of tan flesh interrupted by heavy feathered wings.

“No, I don’t. But I know what your back looks like – or looked like before, anyway.” I admit, a little embarrassed, and I can see a faint flush working its way down his neck as I finish. Fortunately for me, he doesn’t respond, and I look at his back closely.

“What are you doing?” He asks after a minute. I reach out hesitantly to touch the left wing.

“I’m taking inventory. Can I- can I touch?” I ask, pausing my hand’s movement. Ryan hums his assent, and I lift it gently, smoothing the feathers down as I figure out which directions it’s supposed to move in, and looking at his back with the wing out of the way. I hear Ryan’s breath catch.

“Shit.” He grunts through his teeth. I freeze.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“Nope. No, I just-” He shifts, wings stretching open and then closed again, the action moving the one I’d been holding out of my hand. “Fuck, are you kidding me?” He says, almost to himself. I wait for him to tell me what the problem is.

The wings are light colored up high, then a medium grey as you look further down. It’s really a striking appearance against Ryan’s tanned skin, and if it weren’t for the sheer inconvenience of the thing, I have no doubt that Ryan would be thrilled to have grown these. While I think this, Ryan clears his throat.

“Yeah, so apparently I have two giant new erogenous zones.” Is all he says, but it’s enough, and I have to force myself not to laugh.

“Dude, really?” I can hear the incredulity in my voice, and I press my lips together, trying to get it under control.

“Don’t laugh, this fucking sucks, man. They’re fucking huge, I’m going to be horny all the time.” He complains, moving to face me, looking flushed and irritated.

“Well, at least they don’t hurt anymore, that’s good.”

“This still sucks, though!”

“You’re right, it kind of does. Was your… was your back an – erogenous zone? Before?” I ask, hesitant. Ryan’s blush gets deeper, and he covers his face with his hands.

“Why are we still talking about this?” He asks, and I open my mouth to tell him to forget it, but he answers my question anyway. “Yeah, I mean kinda, when you were… like, cleaning up the blood and everything, I definitely felt it, but it fucking hurt so much that it was easy to ignore.” He admits.

“The whole wing is like that, or just the base?” I ask, automatically reaching out again, pulling my hand back when he flinches. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s- ugh, whatever. Go ahead, let’s see how bad this is.” He sighs, turning back around to face away from me.

“I’m not going to touch you if you don’t want me to.” I say, a frown settling into my mouth.

“No, please? I just- I need to know where the trouble spots are going to be so I know where to avoid.” He insists, attempting to stretch them out fully again and only getting halfway. I grab the lower edge of each wing to take some of the weight away and helping him to lift them fully.

They’re pretty big. I mean of course, we’d seen the entire wing folded down his back, but stretched out they easily would go past his fingertips and the right one brushes the wall behind the couch.

“Damn, Ryan, I know this whole situation is kind of the worst, but these bad boys look pretty fucking cool.” I tell him, just holding his wings up while he strains to keep them where they are.

“Take a picture, I wanna see.” He tells me.

“If I let go, can you hold them up by yourself?” I ask, lowering my hands slowly and noticing the wings droop a little. He grunts.

“For a few seconds, probably.”

Turns out, a few seconds was just enough time to snap a couple of pictures of the back and duck under the wing to take a few of his front. I stare openly at his chest where his muscles flex and shift when he lowers the wings to their resting position.

“I think you got new muscles, Ry.” I say, meeting his eyes. He’s even redder than before, a combination of embarrassment and strain. I show him the pictures I’d taken, and he zooms in on a few places, including his shoulders.

“Yeah, that looks different, I think.” He agrees. I point to one bulge along his collarbones.

“That one’s new, I haven’t seen it before. And that place would make sense, I think.” I say.

“So, when were you going to tell me you have pretty detailed knowledge of my back and chest?” He teases, looking up at me. Now, I blush.

“Look, we’ve filmed a lot of videos, I’ve spent a lot of time looking at your dumb face while editing. It’s not weird.” I try to defend myself.

“I feel like if you have to say it’s not weird, it’s pretty weird.” He pushes, a smirk on his face.

“You look good, Ryan, just let me be.” I find myself grinning, the awkwardness and embarrassment clear in my voice as I flounder. Thankfully, Ryan does let it go, and looks back at the wings.

“Alright, back to feeling me up, if you don’t mind?” He reminds me, facing away from me again. I laugh.

“Okay, sure. Give me updates.”

I settle behind him, beginning to poke around beneath the wings. This is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve tried laughter yoga.

“Ow! Fuck, that’s sore.” He tells me, and I snort.

“New muscle.”

I move along the base of where his wing meets his back, caressing his skin as platonically as I can manage given the circumstances. His breathing is uneven, and I see him wipe sweaty palms against his shorts.

“Yeah, uh, that’s a spot, fuck-” He almost groans, and I bite my lip, resisting the urge to adjust my pants or do something stupid like palming myself over my sweats.

I map out the rest of his back, shoulders and wings, and any time I hit a hot spot, Ryan groans, and I move on quickly. We’re pretty close friends, but this is still pushing the line of what is platonic. Eventually, I move my hands away.

“Well, I think that’s it,” I say, thinking _now I know every one of your erogenous zones…_

“Thanks, Shane. I really- It’s uh… thanks.” Ryan says, flushed and looking like sin. I swallow, giving a little shrug as he takes a few deep breaths. “Yeah, I’m gonna go jerk off now.” He says, getting up and slapping his thighs. I laugh, he laughs, and that’s all it takes for everything to be okay again.

“Okay, okay, TMI.” I say, holding up my hands while he passes me to go to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I hear the shower running, and I sit back on the couch, resting my head in my hands.

What has life become now? I feel like we’re walking on a tightrope, swaying back and forth, almost losing our balance but not quite reaching the tipping point where we fall into the ‘more than friends’ category.

Just then, I hear a loud clatter from the shower, followed by an _ow, fuck!_ I jump up, knocking on the door and asking if he’s okay.

“Yeah, sorry. My wing knocked all the bottles over. I’m fine.” He assures me, and I go back to where I was sitting before, picking up the shirt I had been working on and finishing the alterations.

One jerk-off session later, Ryan is dressed in fresh sweats, and from what I can tell, only sweats, no underwear. I try not to look too closely at his ass, but it’s _right there_ as he goes around the room cleaning things up and grabbing any feathers from where they had fallen.

Fucking hell, he's sexy _and_ cute as fuck.

“I’m done with this shirt, if you want to give it a try, see if it fits.” I say, holding up a tshirt. I’d cut from the collar down over the sleeves to make kind of a halter neck which ends low on the back. To be honest, I’ll be surprised if Ryan agrees to wear this since the silhouette is pretty feminine, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers and we’re working with limited expertise right now.

“Can you help me put it on?” He comes over, looking interested, if a little wary.

I comply, pulling the tube over his head and carefully – trying to avoid the previously discovered hot spots – lifted his wings up through the loose fabric, then tugged the still intact collar over his head. After shifting around a little, stretching his wings up and down, he smiled.

“It works, I think. Pretty comfy, too, very breathable.” He comments, going to the bathroom to see in the mirror.

“It’s kind of a sample, like the easiest alteration I could come up with. I’m sure we can get something more structured put together.” I tell him, following him to take a look.

“It’s a little fem though, don’t you think?” He frowns, noting the way it bares his entire shoulders. I figured.

“Well, the thing is, you don’t have a ton of options. Men’s clothes aren’t typically designed with open backs, so most of what I come up with is going to be at least a little fem.” I warn, and his expression lightens.

“You know, I don’t mind it. I look hot.” He grins at my reflection, and I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, you do look hot. You can finally show off that P90X back Daysha’s always talking about.” I tease. He laughs loudly.

“You too? I can’t get away from that! I took my shirt off one time for that video, man, one time!” Despite his tone, I can see in his facial expression that he’s okay with the teasing. Ryan knows he’s in great shape.

"Don't birds like, have to moisturize?" I ask. Ryan squints at me.

"Moistur- what the fuck are you talking about?" 

"Like, what's the word, like they use their beak to comb through, and like..." I pause, wracking my brain. "Preen! That's it, like spread the oil over the feathers." I explain. 

"Fuck if I know, maybe? Why?"

"Well, you may need to do some wing maintenance so things don't get... crusty, or whatever." I tell him, gesturing to his wings. 

"I mean maybe, what would I even use?"

"Baby oil would work probably, right? Something like that?" 

"Dude, I don't own baby oil." Ryan looks offended that I would even insinuate that he would.

"Right, I forgot, you don't take care of your skin. Okay, I'll run to Walgreens and grab some." I decide. "I'll be right back."

Half an hour later, I came back to Ryan's apartment to find him laying face down on his bed, scrolling through Instagram and looking insanely cuddly with his wings tucked around himself.

"I'm back." I announce, although I'm sure he heard me come in.

"Is here okay? I don't want oil on my couch." He says, tossing his phone away. 

"Sure, he's fine. Spread 'em." I say, settling between his parted legs and trying to get my mind out of the gutter.

"You have to say it like that?" He grumbles, but adjusts his wings so they're mostly open and resting against the mattress.

"Okay, I'm going in." I warn, drizzling some oil onto one hand and warming it up between my palms. "Let me know if you're feeling too many things." I say, awkwardly. Ryan snorts.

"You can say horny, I think that would be less weird."

"Okay, let me know if you get too horny." I amend with a laugh.

I start at the top, right where the feathers begin. I really should've picked anywhere else to start since this is the most sensitive place, and sure enough, Ryan moans softly into his pillow, where his face is buried. I massage the oil into the base of the feathers, arranging them to fall naturally back in place. It's not so much the feathers that are sensitive, although somehow he does have a little feeling in them. It's mostly the wing structure itself that gets Ryan going. 

Carefully working up the bony base to where it comes to a point, I have to ponder what my life has become. I knew I'd do anything for Ryan long before he even asked me to do Unsolved, which is how I got roped into the show anyway. But now, I think it would go the other way as well, I think I might be just as important to Ryan as he is to me. After all, his family lives in LA, and he does have lots of good friends. But he called me first.

I'm broken out of my thoughts when a particularly rough moan leaves Ryan's lips. I shudder slightly, but Ryan doesn't need to know that. I ignore the noise and keep working, eventually moving to the other wing for an identical treatment.

One thing I did _not_ need to know about Ryan is how fucking noisy he is in bed. I can only imagine (boy, can I imagine) what he's like if there's actual sex happening, rather than just some literal petting.

By the end of it all, Ryan is panting and damp from sweat. A few times, he'd rocked his hips into the mattress, a movement I'd decided not to acknowledge because making a joke about it feels wrong. 

"I think that's it, I'm done." I say, clearing my throat and hoping Ryan is still out of it enough to not pick up on the hoarse tone. 

"Fuck, okay. Okay, thanks. I'm just gonna lay here for a bit, I think." He says, and I pat him on the shoulder. 

"Is your back still hurting?" I ask, conversationally. Fuck, in for a penny...

"I mean, yeah. Like the muscles are sore." 

"Want a massage? I'm already oily."

"That sounds so gross. But yeah, that would be amazing." Ryan says, lifting his head slightly to look back at me. "You can like... sit on my ass, or whatever, so you can reach without killing your back too. I don't mind." He smiles lightly, acknowledging the weirdness of it all with just his face.

"Yeah, okay, that would help." I shuffle myself up his body, eventually sitting just right on the meat of his ass. His wings are still stretched out enough to allow me the space to sit and so that most of his back is available. 

Starting at the back of his neck, I knead his muscles roughly, enough pressure to work out the lactic acid gathered there. I move down gradually, taking his noises as cues where he's in the most pain. 

When my hands start to cramp, I rub the excess oil off on his shoulders and move off my perch.

"Better?" I ask, and almost laugh when he lets out a breath.

"Yeah, that helped a lot, thank you. Fuck, I could fall asleep right now." He says, shifting slightly to bury his nose into the crook of his arm. His wings cradle his body like a blanket, and it's pretty adorable. 

"Go ahead, you haven't slept well recently. I'll wake you up in an hour so you don't screw up your sleep cycle." I offer, getting off the bed. I get a small noise of acknowledgement before he's drifting off, and I smile when I go to wash my hands.

* * *

“Okay this is going to sound insane, but hear me out.” I begin, and already, Ryan looks nervous. “You know those sex harnesses? The leather ones?”

“Uh, yeah, in concept. What about them?”

“What if we could find one that, like, went around the wings, you know? To make it look like the wings are on a harness as a costume or something?” I suggest, and thankfully, Ryan seems to consider it.

“That’s not a bad idea. Sure, I’d be a weirdo, but what’s a guy wearing wings around LA? Especially if we have a film crew involved or a vlogging camera.”

“Exactly. Like you could go do things sometimes, right?”

“Shane, you devious bastard, you may be onto something here.” Ryan grins, turning around to clap me on the shoulder. I grin back.

* * *

Somehow, after everything, it's not that weird to sit down next to Ryan and search for men's leather sex harnesses on a weekday, sober. 

"No, that wouldn't fit around the wings, the holes have to be wide enough. They don't squish." Ryan objects, and I close the tab. 

"Okay, how about this one?" I suggest. "We can always get rid of the arm bands since they won't fit around your arms anyway." 

"My biceps are too powerful." Ryan agrees, the shrugs. "Yeah, that one is cool. I think it's between that one and the one with the pentagram and the one with the three straps around the ribs."

"I wish you could try them on before buying them." I complain, adding them all to the cart.

We end up ordering three to test which one would best sell the illusion, and Ryan will return the two losers.

When they arrive a few days later, I help Ryan put them on, first shirtless, then over one of the newly tailored button downs with simple slits cut down the back. 

"Yeah, I buy it. looks pretty good, you just look kinky, not supernatural." I say, looking him up and down. Ryan has gotten used to me examining him, starting to preen a little under my gaze instead of shying away from it. That does not help me focus on the matters at hand.

"So this is passable for being around, but anyone that knows me is going to think it's weird." He says, testing his range of motion.

"Right. We'll have to talk to the crew soon." I remind him.

"Dude, I'm so freaked out," Ryan admits, not looking at me. I smile softly at him, holding my arms open. He falls into them easily, tucking his head into the crook of my neck. His wings act like a shield around his back, protective, like he's not the one controlling them.

"It'll be okay, Ry. It's going to work out." I try to assure him, and he sighs heavily.

"You staying tonight?" He asks. 

"If you want me here, I'll be here." I promise. His arms squeeze me tighter. 

It's going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on a part 2, this will likely be a 3 or 4 part series. More romance to follow :) I'm still deciding how they're going to handle Unsolved and would love reading your suggestions!


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